


Translucency

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dress Up, F/M, Married Couple, Orgasm Denial, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finwë has a few problems with Míriel's choice of dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Translucency

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the Dressup/costumes square in my Season of Kink card.

When Rómelindë, Míriel's most trusted handmaiden, let him into the queen's bedchamber, Finwë's heart leapt in joy at the sight of his wife. Míriel stood in front of her dressing table, ready for the feast. Her gown was simple but elegant, of a shade very similar to her hair-colour and with delicate embroidery in gold scattered along its length. The diadem shining on her forehead was her prerogative as Queen, its blood-red diamond offset by the amber droplets decorating her hair, which was was pulled up in a semicircle around her head.

It was when she moved to greet him that the usual delight he felt in her presence coloured with surprise.

He blinked, afraid that his eyes – and his desire – were playing tricks on him, but there was no illusion. When Míriel moved it wasn't hard to tell that the dress was all she was wearing, so flimsy it was. And the light, the blasted light. Míriel had been keen to explore the potential of the light to play on different fabrics from the moment they arrived in Valinor, experimenting with all kinds of yarns and weaves. The swell of her breasts and the dip of her crotch became clearly visible when she stepped in front of one of the windows, and Finwë's mind at once jumped to what effect the full light of Laurelin might have on that sheeny silk that looked like a sheet of water gliding off her body when she walked. 

“Míriel, you can't go out dressed like that,” he heard himself stutter. 

“What? Afraid people will be shocked?” She gave a frisky chortle, spinning around once and twice, her skirt flying up to reveal her bare legs. Finwë's heart started throbbing with greater vigour, and another part of his body did too, though he didn't even realise it then, entirely enraptured as he stared at how the folds of the dress fell back around Míriel's legs and hid her ankles. “But why should anybody be? What use are peace and security if we can't go out dressed as we like best, untroubled by anything?”

Finwë's eyes travelled up to her radiant face – the corners of her lips pulled up, her cheeks slightly dimpled and her black eyes glittering so bright to shame the star-sky in all its glory. 

“Or are you jealous?” Míriel flitted close to him, flattening herself against him. He could feel every curve of her body – her breasts pressed against his chest, her mound teasing his thigh – and her body heat besides. “Or is it that you _can't_ stand it?”

Míriel drew back before he could reply, the glint in her eyes turned mischievous, and the next thing he knew she had lowered a hand between his legs, locking it around the bulge she found there. 

“Míriel,” he moaned.

“My my,” she jested and caught her lower lip between her teeth, which gave her an even naughtier air. She fondled him, her fingers digging into his balls and the heel of her palm pressing firmly onto his shaft. She mumbled something, but he didn't quite understand what, his mind lost to how she was caressing him, slowly, back and forth. He didn't even think to protest, but rocked helplessly into her hand, craving more and more of her touch, telling himself that if he had to attend the feast with his breeches flooded with his own seed then so be it. 

He whimpered, legs trembling, very close to coming, but Míriel pulled her hand away at the very last moment, eliciting a choked gasp from him.

“You will have to endure it, dear husband.” She walked to the other end of the room and lifted a large shawl from a settee, a rectangular piece embroidered in red and silver, the latter a shade darker than her dress. “But if you do, if you manage to restrain your desire until the feast is over...there will be a reward for you.”

She wrapped the shawl around her neck, so that one end of it fell over her left shoulder down her back and the other draped over her front, resting on her right shoulder. 

“Pray there won't be much wind on Taniquetil today,” she lilted, and flashed him a cheeky smile. Then she clasped her hands in front of her waist, taking on a queenly and dignified air, and her tone changed too, to one of formal gravity. “I will be waiting for you in the carriage.”

She turned and headed towards the door, the shawl swaying just below her buttocks as she took firm strides. 

Finwë glanced at his crotch, and reached down with a sigh to re-position his forlorn erection in a way that wouldn't hurt too much for the time being.


End file.
